Chapter 1: Hibernation
Three weeks, two days.
Waiting inside could not bring him any amount of meager comfort. Meditation only brought frustration, and despite his state of being words only seemed to be something he could choke on if he thought about speaking to anyone, his mentor included. Solitude doesn't make it any better, truly, but at least out here he doesn't feel as confined. London air is still stuffy, humid, and rain drizzles in a light mist over him, but it's spacious.
It's difficult to tell with how overcast it is, but dusk is settling in by now. He can see a bit of the light fading from behind the clouds from where he's perched on the roof. Three weeks, two days, now going onto a third day.
Genji gazes over his shoulder, watching as Soldier 76 pushes himself onto the roof with a low grunt. It's difficult to make out what 76 is thinking due to the mask, but then, Genji really has no room to talk. Based on the body language, he figures that 76 is likely tired. Tired, but pushing on.
He tilts his head quietly at 76.
"They're askin' for you. Told them I'd make sure you weren't rusting," Soldier says.
Genji exhales a little, not quite a laugh.
It's quiet, save for the light rain. It flattens Soldier's hair, but he doesn't make the impression that it bothers him. Instead, he's crouching next to Genji, fingers folded.
"You coming in or what?"
"I want to be ready," Genji responds, his voice quiet. "So unless there has been further development..."
Soldier 76 grunts and tips his head away. "We're still looking," he says, sounding a little more defeated. "Winston's leading me to believe that Talon hasn't left London. Other than that--"
"Then I will be out here. Thank you."
Silence sinks in once more. Out of the corner of his visor, Genji can see how Soldier curls his hands into fists. Is he angry for Genji's lack of cooperation, or something else? For all of the gruff front that Soldier places, Genji suspects it's the latter.
"If you have something you want to tell me, Shimada, now's the time," 76 tells him.
Behind his visor, Genji closes his eyes, struggling for a moment. Ten years ago, he was emotionally imbalanced, expressing whatever he wanted vocally and physically. The range of freedom had been granted by his father, then by his life being saved by Overwatch. For a time, all he knew was either to play, or to be angry with his situation. He thought to blame Hanzo, and he had for years. He'd moved on, forgiven him, and Hanzo had been right -- that he was not the Genji he remembered. Zenyatta's teachings brought him immeasurable inner peace, and he knew how to pace himself better.
Here and now, it's obscenely harder.
As he hears the Soldier rise, Genji finally says, "I wish you didn't listen to my brother." He breathes in sharply, determined to keep his gaze out to the horizon, because he doesn't trust himself to look at Soldier right now.
"If you want to blame me, then blame me," Soldier tells him, sounding less gruff.
"I do not know," Genji confesses. "I do know it has been three weeks, going on three days since then. We have searched what feels like every nook and cranny of London, and there has been nothing. If you hadn't listened to him--"
"Then it'd be Hanzo I'd be havin' this talk with, and he'd be a lot less pleasant about it."
That earns a quiet, bittersweet laugh from Genji. "I suppose so."
Soldier 76 pauses, then runs a gloved hand through his wet hair, pushing it back. "I'll radio you the second I get anything."
The moment he knows he's alone, Soldier 76 removes his mask and lets out an angry growl, slamming his fist against the wall. A moment of weakness can be permitted to Jack Morrison, a moment of frustration.
There's always been a mix of feelings since Winston called for Overwatch to be put back together. There'd been the momentary feeling of approval, knowing that none of them really quite stopped what they were already made to do. Jack never stopped being a soldier, never put down his gun, and he isn't so certain he ever will. Yet, the moment he saw old and new faces, there had been something else he didn't expect.
It's not for himself. Hell, he's been through this before, and he knows what kind of risks they're in. Everyone knows what risks they've put themselves into by doing all of this. They know what they're fighting for, and they know the danger that lurks, but that didn't stop the fear and paranoia of knowing what could happen. They're a damned fine team and Jack knows it, and yet all it takes is for one slip up.
Just like now.
Three weeks ago, there'd been the indication of possible terrorist activity on a peaceful omnic protest. The last time there'd been any hints, it had just been Tracer who was present to make any attempts to stop it, and Jack sure as hell wasn't going to let it become a damned madhouse again. A fight had broken out between Talon and the present Overwatch team. He hadn't known, damn it, but Reaper had been there, waiting, making sure to surprise at least one of them and it was impossible to not take that personally.
Genji hadn't been so lucky. When Hanzo and Jack heard him screaming, they went, of course they went.
He'd been missing an arm, and his knees mangled. Hanzo told Jack--
"Go! Take Genji! Mark my words, if he does not leave here alive, you will pay the debt for that, Soldier!"
It was a hard choice, but Jack chose to evacuate with Genji, bring him to Angela as soon as he could. By the time he was done, Hanzo was no where to be found. A broken bow, abandoned arrows, and a splash of blood.
Which left Jack knowing that it is entirely possible that Hanzo is dead, or worse.
It leaves him with that fear, knowing that choice may have cost them. It may have cost Genji. The relationship with the Shimada brothers is horrendously complicated and Jack is well aware of that, but the feeling of losing something you'd just gained back is something he can relate to with some degree of empathy.
And this is his team. Hell if he'll let Talon run away with any of their own.
"Jack? Sorry-- Soldier."
The mask is pressed back on, clicking into place. "Go ahead, Winston."
"Athena's caught sight of some movement. I don't want to assume it's nothing, but if Talon's on the move--"
"I know. Point us in a direction, and we'll tail 'em." Soldier 76 starts marching down the hall, knowing he'll regret not informing Genji. "Get me Mercy, McCree, and Reinhardt."
He keeps his pace urgent, the door shoved open as he goes to the roof. When he steps out, it's raining harder, as it does in London.
Slowly, Genji rises from his perch and turns to face him.
"I'm not making you any promises, Shimada. Talon's on the move; it could be your brother. It might not be." Soldier 76 folds his arms. "Just so we're clear."
"It is enough that you told me." Genji steps down from where he'd been brooding, his hands clenched. "I am ready."
Frankly, 76 expects nothing less.
If he were still a complete human, the weather would make it a challenge to see much of anything out in the streets. As it is, Genji has the advantage over most of the others, his vision far from being impaired as he watches their path carefully. In the past, patience was one of his largest flaws, incapable of waiting to do anything than what he wanted. These days, he can afford it, waiting and watching even though in his heart he wants nothing more than to rush in to seek out Hanzo.
"Hell, there's no lighting this in this kinda weather," McCree grouses, giving up on his cigar.
Genji smiles faintly behind his mask.
"You know, I reckon I can't think of many people ready as you are in this sorta situation; hard to imagine I'd wanna find the man who almost killed me in order to save him."
For a long time in Overwatch before it had been disbanded, he'd known McCree. He'd watched him change, not unlike Genji had; while Jesse worked hard to make up for his past transgressions as a criminal, Genji spent years sorting out his anger. It's far from surprising that McCree has mixed feelings regarding Hanzo.
That's only sensible, really.
"I suppose it appears odd," Genji says, still watching from their position.
"You wanna forgive him, that's your call." McCree shrugs. "Far as I can figure, he ain't even apologized to you for the whole nearly murdering you ordeal."
No, McCree isn't wrong. For however much guilt Hanzo clearly bears, there hasn't been an explicit apology, and Genji doesn't think he could ever really hope to expect one. Ever since joining Overwatch, their interactions had been brief, cold, and distant. It was difficult for the both of them, and despite himself all Genji can do is wait until Hanzo is prepared to do or say something, anything.
Genji closes his eyes behind his mask for a brief moment. "Jesse."
"Just sayin', don't much care for his general attitude."
"I know," Genji acknowledges, his gaze unwavering as he carefully observes the streets.
Minutes slowly tick by, and eventually he's able to spot a handful of men moving with caution but still purpose down the road. It doesn't take much for him to immediately recognize that they belong in Talon, and the way they're organized is for a hunt.
It feels as if his heart becomes a stone, sinking to the pit of his belly. "They're heading north in your direction. A dozen men," Genji says through their communication link.
"Noted. Let's follow," Soldier 76 answers.
Genji nods to McCree before he's moving silently through the shadows. Despite the rain and the puddles, Genji remembers his training well enough to make himself almost practically invisible while following. Albeit McCree has less grace, he's had plenty of experience in the world and the previous iteration of Overwatch to know how to cover himself plenty; Genji isn't concerned about being spotted. Not yet.
"They're splittin' off," McCree observes, studying the way the Talon mercenaries branch off into two groups of six. "One group's gonna run into you, old man."
"Then make sure you don't lose the other six."
They're leaving to cover more ground. It is a hunt, a prowl for something. Someone. Genji didn't doubt Hanzo's ability to survive, but whatever happened in those three weeks he doesn't want to imagine.
The group of six pause abruptly, observing something on the concrete ground before it's washed away with the rain. Whatever they murmur among themselves, Genji cannot hear, but it's not his immediate concern. The Talon men leave abruptly, more in a hurry, their intent decisive.
Genji goes to pursue, pausing only briefly to glance over what they had left behind. A streak of blood, faded, draining away into the closest sewage.
It takes every once of will to not tense up, fear flitting through him briefly before he remembers to focus.
"Y'good?" he hears McCree.
Genji can only nod before he's pushing into a faster pace, keeping up after Talon without drawing attention to him or McCree. Abruptly, the group turns a corner into a broader street, their guns clearly out, target nearby. They start to surround a storefront for sports, the glass shattered and clearly already broken into.
The familiar sound of an arrow shoots out, striking one of the Talon men in the throat.
"Go!" another mercenary orders.
It's more impulsive than he has been for quite sometime: Genji breaks into a run, drawing his blade as he rushes at them, slicing into one man's stomach before he can react and ducking away when the others become alert to his presence. From behind, he hears McCree sigh before he's firing from his position, covering the cyborg while Genji continues to push in to clear their path.
It isn't much, to cut them down and let McCree clean up the rest. For a moment, Genji hesitates. It seems too simple.
He shakes his head and steps into the store. Those concerns can wait.
The further he goes in, the more he can see splatters of blood across the floor. His throat constricts, but Genji continues inside until he finds his brother, crumpled into a far corner. Multiple cuts can be seen across his body, bruises darkening patches of his skin and his left foot set into a painful angle. In Hanzo's hands is a bow he'd taken from the store, though horridly pitiful in comparison to what he's usually armed with.
"Hanzo," Genji says quietly.
"Shit," McCree hisses, clicking his tongue as he looks over the fallen older Shimada. "Hey, we found him. You'd better bring Mercy," he announces on their network.
His brother glances up for a moment, then looks away sharply, letting out a shudder. Hanzo says nothing, remaining stoic as ever. It shouldn't hurt, it's what Genji expects, but he says nothing. Instead, Genji crouches by him, touching Hanzo's wrist delicately before the archer pulls from the contact. It doesn't take much more than that for Hanzo to slip away into unconsciousness.
Neither of them can afford panic, yet the feeling rushes through him. Despite how Hanzo had pulled away, Genji takes his hand.
All he can do is wait for the others.
When Hanzo opens his eyes, there's immediately a blinding white light burning into his sight. After he flinches, he growls and rubs his eyes as he shifts awkwardly out of the cot he's been left on. For a moment, he's not certain where he is, if he's still there, still trapped. But then, there'd be no reason for Talon to have given him medical attention, something he's noticed -- several bandages, a few shots for antibiotics undoubtedly, and his foot has been set correctly. Still broken, but braced.
As his eyes adjust to the light, Hanzo notices he's in a concealed glass box. There's a tiny shower and toilet with a cot, but he's otherwise surrounded by glass, cutting him off from the rest of the room. With a touch and a judgment of thickness, he determines that it's bulletproof.
"Genji will be in shortly. Soon as we're done talking."
Hanzo's eyes glance to the side, spotting Soldier 76. With a frown, he sits at the edge of his cot. He isn't certain he's thrilled to know that he'll be seeing his brother, but he suspects he has little choice. "I am listening."
Soldier drags over a stool and sits down, folding his hands together. "Mercy patched you up. Far as she could tell you don't have anything that's going to risk your health. That's the good news."
"You remember what they did to you?"
"A little difficult to forget," Hanzo answers coldly.
"You remember everything?"
There's a pause, and Hanzo closes his eyes as he thinks. Most of the details can be recalled; in general, his time with Talon involved torture and interrogation. He told them nothing, but he realizes that there are gaps in his memory. Not shocking, not when the pain had gotten difficult enough to knock him unconscious.
"No," Hanzo admits.
Soldier exhales steadily. "Ten years ago when your brother first joined us, had an agent with us named Gerard. Good man, good ideals. Talon couldn't stand him and did everything they could to kill him. They failed for a long time. Man was untouchable. Then they got the idea of getting closer by snatching his wife. Sweet woman, loving. When we found her, we didn't see anything wrong and sent her home. Few days later, she killed her husband and ran off to Talon. You've met her; you know her as Widowmaker. Brainwashing isn't something we can account for. Not something I'm willing to risk a second time."
"You think that they've tampered with my mind."
"I think it's a possibility I don't much want to risk. And I don't think you do, either." Soldier stands up from the stool. "It's not a happy arrangement. But we're going to give it a week, let Mercy check on you once a day. Meals three times a day. Visitors whenever, but no one inside your cell."
Isolation after surviving Talon is not a pleasant thought, but Hanzo knows that there isn't any choice involved.
"Tell me you understand why we're doing this," Soldier 76 says, his voice a fraction quieter. Hanzo doesn't miss it, but doesn't call it out either.
Hanzo looks up finally, frowning as he responds finally, "I do. If I am a risk, then it is best to do what you have to." That is something he can understand.
For a moment, Soldier is quiet, staring at Hanzo before he straightens up and nods. "You have your communicator. If there's something you need, alert one of us."
"I will bear it in mind."
With little else to say, Soldier 76 gives one last gaze over Hanzo before he turns and leaves the room. Hanzo lets out a breath of air he'd been holding, momentarily leaving himself unguarded. His brows knit and he rubs the bridge of his nose.
Trapped in a box, looking out, being gazed in -- he can manage it, he knows it, but it's less than preferable after three weeks of enduring Talon.
The door opens, and he remembers to straighten up best as he can.
It's still difficult to look at Genji, everything that he is now. The body language often still is foreign to him, as is his entire body. The implants that he's taken on in order to survive make it difficult to remember who he is. Hanzo feels like looking away from him, but keeps his gaze steady instead.
Slowly, Genji approaches until he's not even a foot from the glass. Whatever he is thinking, it's impossible for Hanzo to tell. Years ago while they still lived under the same roof, Hanzo knew him; his expressions, his tells, every bit of what he was thinking, feeling, and going to do next. He knew his brother, and the man who stands before him is almost a stranger.
"We should not have left you behind," is the first thing Genji says, and Hanzo wants to scream.
"It is what I told him to do," Hanzo says instead.
Genji pauses, disinclined to argue, a strange choice. "I wish we didn't, then. But there is nothing that can be done to take that choice away. I'm relieved you're alive. This... situation as it is now is not what I asked for."
Hanzo's fingers, cut and bruised as they are, curl into fists, but he remains where he's sitting, trying to keep his calm. "I know why it must be this way. Soldier was clear in his explanation. It is sensible."
"Do you truly think that Talon's goal was to make you into one of their own?"
"You don't need to ask me that," Hanzo replies, his tone colder. "There were a dozen reasons I was there."
Genji takes another step closer to the glass. "I am not brushing away what you experienced while they kept you captive. I would not assume to know what they did to you."
"Then I would suggest you pay heed to Soldier's decision."
When silence sinks in, Hanzo feels for a moment that there's something left unsaid by Genji. Whatever it is, he doesn't say it, and holds his tongue. It was fine by Hanzo; this conversation is more than enough, and he silently begs for it to end.
Eventually, Genji reaches up and touches the glass, his palm resting there. It's as far as he can go. In return, Hanzo doesn't budge as he watches his brother.
"Remember, Hanzo. You are not alone here. Should you need something, we are here. It does not have to be from me," Genji tells him, his voice too calm, too gentle, and Hanzo cannot bear it.
The archer finally looks away, refusing to say more. Eventually, he hears Genji depart, his steps sounding deliberately paced, nothing like the easygoing swagger he remembers of his little brother. The door opens.
Hanzo lets out a hiss of pain that has nothing to do with the wounds Talon has given him. It's a struggle, but he finds a way to stand for even a moment before he's pressing his palm against the glass where he remembers Genji's had been.
Chapter 2: Dreams
Honest mistakes can be made on the path to recovery. Hanzo is unsure of his place in Overwatch, and has difficult reminders.
RATING: Mature. There are mentions of torture and PTSD.
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement.
Multiple lacerations, wounds tended to and deliberately re-opened, left foot shattered in three different locations, multiple locations of bruising--
Mercy has reviewed her medical report more than once already. She's seen plenty of wounds on the battlefield, but it never truly stops being unsettling when she finds such intent to harm that wasn't a result of a fight but a result of a means of torture. While she has no doubts that Hanzo will physically recover, it still troubles her; a day is enough for pain, but to have likely suffered for over three weeks in the hands of Talon...
She can't stop thinking about it, how much must have been suffered.
For now, at least, she's coming in at her scheduled time to ensure that Hanzo's healing well. Mercy is one of the few who has direct access to his cell, and per the overall agreement the only one who can enter and see him beyond the bulletproof glass. With protection, as a precaution.
Waiting outside the door is Pharah in her complete armor. Mercy offers a small smile, nodding to her. "Thank you for coming with me," the doctor says.
"Of course." Pharah waits for Mercy to open the door. "Do you truly think he's a threat?"
"I think he's a patient, and someone who needs help recovering." The potential of any brainwashing that may have happened looms over her mind. Hers, and Jack's; she knows too well what could be. Given enough time with blood tests, Mercy hopes to quell everyone's fears.
The door opens and they both step inside. In the middle of the room is the glass cell where Hanzo has been locked inside, and from the distance is looks like he's resting on the cot left for him. The closer she approaches, Mercy can see that it's not quite as simple; Hanzo's eyes are closed, but his body is tense, fingers twitching with his breathing quick, almost panicked.
A nightmare. Mercy wishes she could say she was surprised.
"Please wait here, Pharah," she requests, hurrying to Hanzo's cell.
As quickly as she can, Mercy presses in a code to the keypad before swiping a card. Once the door is unlocked, Mercy steps into the cell, reaching out to touch Hanzo's arm. A single bit of contact, apparently, is enough to wake him. Hanzo's eyes open, wide and brown and abruptly alert as he brings back a hand in the form of a determined fist.
He stops when he recognizes her. "Dr. Ziegler. Forgive me." Slowly, his arm lowers and he looks away. Perhaps he's ashamed? Mercy can't interpret it yet.
Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Pharah, tense, her hand resting on her gun, prepared. Mercy smiles to herself briefly.
"There is nothing to forgive," Mercy assures. A gentle hand rests on top of Hanzo's, but the archer pulls away. She doesn't take it personally. "May I take your vitals, Hanzo?"
Slowly, Hanzo sits up and adjusts himself to make himself ready and pliable for her to examine. First Mercy focuses on his injuries, careful to not aggravate them as she inspects her previous work. It's unlikely that there are any signs of infection, but she would be a poor doctor to assume she amounts to any perfection. Fortunately, as far as she can tell, he is recovering nicely and should remain safe from anything getting worse.
As she moves on to check his blood pressure, Hanzo speaks: "You are the one who helped Genji, years ago."
"I am," Mercy confirms, keeping her tone pleasant.
"You know how he..."
"How he almost died?" Mercy's eyes glance up to meet Hanzo's. "I do."
Hanzo turns his head away, contemplative. Uncomfortable, clearly. "Helping me does not bother you?"
Once she's confirmed the status of his blood pressure in her notes, Mercy follows up his question with her own: "Are you proud of what you did, Hanzo?"
"No," he answers immediately.
The smile she wears is a bit warmer. "It would only bother me if you had no regrets. Cruel men savor the ones they've hurt, the ones they've killed, whether it is a foe, family, or friend. Better men work to better themselves, and recognize the mistakes they've made."
"It is not so simple," Hanzo says, now looking at her, his eyes fierce and piercing.
"No, it isn't." Mercy stands up. "Your vitals are generally healthy. There are obvious signs of stress, but that is hardly surprising. Try to remain off your foot for the next few days. Winston will be in soon with your breakfast."
"He insisted," Mercy says, letting out a small laugh. "I promise it's not a jar of peanut butter."
Hanzo snorts softly.
"Rest well, Hanzo. I will see you tomorrow. Contact me if anything changes." Mercy turns and leaves the cell, and with a bit of regret she shuts the door.
Before she completely turns to exit the room, she hears him say: "Thank you, Dr. Ziegler."
Mercy glances over her shoulder. "You're welcome, Hanzo," she responds softly.
Overwatch is a conglomerate of ex-criminals, specialists, omnic, individuals with unique abilities, and a talking ape from the moon. Hanzo has no idea why Genji has such a strong sense of pride about Overwatch, though perhaps it is because he had no choice but to find belonging with them. In any case, when he'd been invited to join, Hanzo had been leaning very strongly about walking away from it. It seemed a cluster of ridiculousness and misfits.
It still is.
When Winston arrives, he's carrying a tray in a hand as he approaches. "Good morning, Hanzo," the gorilla greets warmly.
Hanzo glances at him, nodding politely. "Winston."
"Tracer wanted to stop by but had a mission to go to. But she had time to put something together." Winston presses a button on the keypad, opening a thin slot in the cell that allows him to gently push the tray of food inside. "She calls it eggs in a basket, and there's some sausage there. And tea! I couldn't really find any jasmine even though we're in London."
"Thank you. It is more than sufficient." Ever since joining Overwatch, Hanzo's had to quickly accommodate for other foods culturally-wise. It'd been an odd switch, and not all of it agreed with him. The sausage might be a bit much, but it was surprisingly considerate that Tracer had gone out of her way to make him anything. Hanzo glances down at the dish as he places it on his lap, giving it a scrutinizing frown. Eggs in a basket, apparently, means somehow frying an egg in the middle of toast, and Tracer or Winston or both arranged it so that two pieces are the eyes, and three pieces of sausage are arranged in a smiling face.
Winston offers a grin, his fangs poking out slightly. "I'll give her your thanks. How are you holding up? Er, all things considered."
Hanzo lifts a brow at him.
"I know, probably a dumb question." The scientist sighs as he rolls over a chair. "I'm sorry that it's like this right now."
"It is necessary. Although your empathy is appreciated." It's not surprising; from what few interactions he's had with Winston, the ape has always been friendly and polite, although on occasion perhaps socially awkward. Considering he's a talking gorilla, that's probably actually very well adjusted.
"More that-- I'm sorry you ended up being held by Talon, especially as long as you did. I wasn't able to find you." Winston frowns, pushing his glasses up. "Whatever happened while they kept you, I was spending every minute trying to comb through everywhere I could think of to find you. I truly am sorry."
"They..." Hanzo hesitates before he continues with, "They often would move their position. It was on purpose. Every few days. Regardless, I bear no ill will toward you. I was prepared for the worst the moment Soldier left with Genji."
"Was there ever a specific pattern in how they moved bases?"
"No. Not one I could discern." Hanzo cuts into the egg and toast with a fork. "Whatever their true purpose was, it seemed they intended to take one of us alive."
Winston hesitates, then scratches behind his head. "I want to ask what happened, but now seems ... a bad time. Well, maybe there's never a good time to ask."
"What is it, precisely, you want to know?" Hanzo convinces himself to not grip his fork too tightly.
"What is it that they wanted from you? If you can remember."
Hanzo is quiet for a moment as he takes a mouthful of the breakfast Tracer has made for him. The toast is buttery, and the eggs soft with simple salt and pepper. It's not terrible. "They asked many questions. Where Overwatch was located now, how many members, what everyone was like-- not all of the questions seemed necessary, and many were redundant. I answered nothing."
"I'm not worried about trusting you," Winston assures, which Hanzo finds baffling. "The more we can understand what Talon was after, then we can stop them. But what you're saying is that all of their interrogation seemed meaningless?"
"That is what it seemed to me. They asked for names, I did not say anything. Then they demanded to know more about everyone, naming them easily enough. It seemed an excuse to put me under physical strain." It's the kindest way for Hanzo to say that whenever he remained silent, they would hurt him. They would torture him. He felt compelled to ensure that Winston wouldn't feel guiltier right now, which is an odd feeling but Hanzo doesn't stop to question himself. "I don't think that I was selected specifically, but they adapted to my capture. Whatever they wanted, I could not tell you. There are parts that I don't remember clearly, but I could not say if knowing what happened would make the picture clearer now."
Winston gives a crooked smile. "Maybe it's a mixed blessing that you don't recall more."
Hanzo scowls down at his plate for a moment before he looks back up at the scientist. "You are too kind to the man that nearly murdered your comrade in arms."
"Ah, well." Winston hesitates before he sighs. "The way I see it, Overwatch is an opportunity to do better. To be better. All of us grew together and did so much good in the world, and some of us had a lot to make up for. If you're here with us now, then that's your chance, too."
After setting his fork down, Hanzo shuts his eyes. Another chance? When was it anyone's decision that he'd ever earned that? He could never make up for nearly taking the life of his little brother. For years, he thought he had killed him. Genji being alive now doesn't take away his actions, forgiveness or not.
Hanzo looks up warily. "You were all close?"
"Many of us still are," Winston says proudly. "Some things are a little more complicated now, but I'm happy Overwatch is growing again."
"What was Genji like? Back then."
Winston lets out a laugh. "At first? Well, he was angry. Saying he had a chip on his shoulder is putting it lightly. He wasn't ungrateful for Mercy saving his life, but he had a lot to adjust to. And Jack, he kept saying how much of an attitude Genji had, Genji would disobey orders half the time, Jack and Gabriel called him a punk..."
Hanzo's lips twitch. He tries not to smile.
"He grew a lot. We all did. We're a family." Winston smiles. "Guess that makes you family too."
That alarms Hanzo, as much as he tries not to let that show. This? A family? An organization like this?
"I shouldn't keep you. I mean, I know your schedule's pretty open, but you have a lot of recovering to do. Here, before I go." Winston presses the button on the keypad once more, pressing a datapad through. "There are a few books loaded on there. Some of my favorites. I figured you'd need something to do while you're in there."
For a long moment, Hanzo doesn't know what to say. The amount of kindness, the amount of warmth and welcoming that's being given to him is strange. Isn't it bizarre to want to befriend a man who nearly killed a companion? How could he ever call this entire thing a family?
Did Genji feel that way about Overwatch as well?
The data pad is slowly taken as he remembers his manners. "Thank you, Winston."
"You're welcome!" Winston grins. "If you need anything else, I'm just a call away."
Hanzo looks down at the data pad and his half-eaten meal as he hears Winston leave. He doesn't entirely understand this, and a part of him feels as though he should reject the kindness that's being shared with him. He's done nothing to earn it.
They don't understand. But then, how could any of them?
The data pad is set aside for now. He can't bear to deal with it. Not yet.
Really, he doesn't understand the whole thing, but McCree is doing it for Genji. It's his business if he thinks Hanzo is worth forgiving, and McCree is more than fine with remembering for the both of them what had been done to him. He remembers Angela working on Genji's body, saving him, and what a little shit Genji had been for a long time. Not that McCree had been a boy scout himself when he first ended up with Overwatch, but it's a little hard to forget how understandably enraged Genji had been. The years have been good to him, but he can't fathom why he decided Hanzo deserved the opportunity to be here and be part of Overwatch.
But, hey. Again, not his business, and McCree will do well by his friends.
When he enters the room, he can hear water running. Hanzo's probably in the shower. Makes sense, there's no telling if Talon even let him have basic necessities and Hanzo seems like he has enough of a stick up his ass to need to bathe three times a day.
If they were on better terms, he'd probably leave the room and give the man his privacy. Instead, McCree is sitting down in the chair left behind by the last visitor.
The shower turns off and Hanzo steps out with a stumble, frowning at his foot a moment before reaching for a towel. It's an eyeful, the archer's body clearly on display and certainly has seen better days. Still attractive, but McCree isn't watching him for pleasurable reasons. There are multiple cuts in Hanzo's skin where a blade has been dragged down, bruises nearly as dark as the tattoo on his arm across his body. A broken foot is probably not much in comparison to the rest on him. Some of the cuts look... methodical. Familiar, almost. McCree frowns to himself.
Hanzo stops after he takes the towel, his eyes meeting McCree's.
"I can look away," McCree at least offers, which is more consideration than he thinks Hanzo's earned but he's making an effort to be amicable.
Hanzo says nothing, drying himself slowly. That's as good as permission to continue to look.
"Broken foot doesn't seem much like it fits with the rest of your injuries," McCree points out.
The towel is hung to dry. "It was self-inflicted," Hanzo clarifies as he starts to dress himself.
"What in tarnation would make you do that?"
Slowly, Hanzo sits with a wince as he manages to tug his pants on. "I had made several escape attempts. A few mostly successful. The last one, I could not find a way to picklock or break out of the chain. However, if I broke the bones in my foot..."
"I don't know that they expected it, considering I got as far as I did until you and Genji found me." Hanzo tries to pull on his top, but apparently it's too painful for him to try any further and gives up for now. He sighs and remains sitting on the end of the cot in his cell. "Are you here to ask about that, McCree?"
"Nah. Just saw somethin' out of place, figured I'd ask. Here to see how you're doin'."
"You and everyone else, it seems."
"We're just funny like that." McCree jerks a thumb down to the plate on the floor of the cell. "You gonna finish those sausages?"
Hanzo peers at him for a moment before picking up the plate and pushing it through the slot. Gladly, McCree takes the plate. His sausages now.
"So you are here, and you have been to see me." Hanzo sighs, sounding exhausted and irritable. "Is there anything else?"
That seems an interesting way to respond to how cozy Mercy and Winston undoubtedly were. McCree eyes the assassin as he bites off the end of one of the abandoned sausages. Cold, but still incredibly delicious. Tracer hasn't lost her touch.
"What, everyone bein' too nice to you? Too many warm feelings?" McCree asks wryly.
"Yes, actually," Hanzo answers stiffly. "I do not understand it. Not considering the circumstances. I would have guessed pity at first, but it goes beyond that."
"Hell, that's just how they are. Winston's got no one else but us, and Mercy ain't ever gonna stop bein' good as she is. Soldier acts like he doesn't give a damn, but that's far from the truth." McCree takes another moment to finish the sausage. "He's grumpier than usual that he's got you locked up in your glass cage. There should have been another way is the last thing I heard him grumble."
Hanzo takes a moment, his eyes glancing to the data pad he's left next to him. Although McCree isn't certain what's on it, he's not surprised if it's come from Winston or Mercy, so it's undoubtedly of some significance. Eventually, Hanzo says, "You're very observant."
"I got two eyes is all, Hanzo."
"Hanzo," is replied back, correcting him.
McCree snorts. "S'what I said."
Hanzo's brows knit, and he's clearly annoyed. "You say it like... hand. That's not correct. It's Hanzo."
"Whatever you say, Han Solo."
"Oh, don't tell me you ain't ever seen Star Wars." By Hanzo's expression, McCree lets out a guffaw. "How are you even a person right now in front of me? Never seen Star Wars."
"Genji spent his time watching films and playing games," Hanzo mutters.
"Right, an' you spent your time being a brother killer," McCree grouses.
That earns a flinch from Hanzo, a reaction that he can't think he'd ever seen and McCree immediately regrets his words. Not because he feels he's wrong, but he didn't come here to lecture the man. He came because he knows Genji will want to know how he's doing, which is frustrating but he respects his friend's choice.
Somehow, Hanzo says nothing in his defense. That almost makes McCree angry. Why does he have nothing to say for himself?
"He forgives you," McCree says, annoyed. "When Winston called us all back, Genji was hardly 'round for more than a few days before he made a choice to find you. I told 'im he didn't need to waste his time. I asked him why he'd run off and give you forgiveness after what you did to 'im."
Hanzo remains silent, but he keeps his eyes trained on McCree.
"He said that neither of you could afford to keep holdin' onto anger. So I suppose the question is, what the hell do you got to be angry about? You got all your limbs and parts."
"Myself." Hanzo frowns. "I have no defense, if you are expecting one. The moment I struck him down, I knew too suddenly what I had done and I could not take it back. When I look at him now, I know that in order to live he must be what he is, because I did that to him. And it is impossible to atone for it."
Atone. Hell of a word to pick, but despite himself McCree can relate to that. Years ago, he'd spent his early life smuggling and stealing, crimes wild enough that it forced Overwatch to step in and stop McCree and the rest of the gang. It was, ultimately, through Overwatch that he worked to pay back what he'd done when he found he wanted to do better.
Because Jesse McCree was determined to atone for what he'd done as a criminal. It's not a thing next to nearly killing your own family, but he's able to see a bit how much Hanzo regrets his actions. Nothing will ever take away what had been done, but McCree can empathize a bit to that.
"Genji thinks you should have a second chance," McCree says, for whatever it's worth. "What about you?"
"I think he's a fool for giving it to me," Hanzo answers, sounding tired. "And that I don't."
"Well, he's givin' it to you anyway. So I reckon you ought to make somethin' out of that, Han Solo, 'cuz he ain't changing his mind and one of you has gotta budge on that." McCree stands up and dusts himself off.
Hanzo scowls, which is a more familiar expression that McCree's ever seen on him. "What could I possibly do to make it worthwhile?"
"Could start with an apology. Doesn't take shit back, but it sure as hell wouldn't hurt. Anyhow." McCree shrugs. "I'm gonna talk to Winston, get a screen down here. Not seeing Star Wars, that's a crime."
The topic shift probably jars Hanzo briefly before his lips flatten into a line. "You are going to make me sit and watch a film with you."
"Why, you got anywhere else to be tonight?" McCree asks, grinning.
Wordlessly, Hanzo gestures to his cell.
"S'what I thought. I'll bring the popcorn. You sit tight in the meanwhile."
It was sometime before he'd heard from anyone again. Eventually, Hanzo had given in and decided to turn on the data pad that Winston had left him. Curiously, he found the books located in a folder marked as Harold Winston - Favorites. He doesn't remember that Winston's first name was Harold when he went over the dossiers of everyone in Overwatch, but maybe it was a simple oversight. Regardless, he found the books and spent the next few hours reading.
Once upon a time, he'd have spent it on meditating. For years, that has not accomplished much with him.
Eventually, the door opens and Hanzo glances up, watching Reinhardt and Winston begin to install a gigantic screen in the room. It seems incredibly excessive to him, but he says nothing as they work to get the display arranged.
"Hanzo!" Winston greets while he's getting things arranged. "How are you liking the books?"
"I did not take you for a fan of the fantasy genre," Hanzo muses.
"I guess science fiction doesn't really cut it for someone like me." Winston grins broadly.
"Star Wars is science fiction, peanuts," McCree says as he swaggers in.
Winston snorts as he arranges the cords. "With fantasy."
The debate doesn't really interest Hanzo. As Winston and McCree continue to talk about the film with each other, Hanzo glances at Reinhardt instead. A noble warrior, intent on fighting until his last breath. That was something he could understand and could respect.
"Hanzo, you are well?" Reinhardt asks, smiling with ease.
"I am recovering," is the answer Hanzo can provide honestly. "Talon did not give you any trouble the other night?"
That earns a hearty laugh. "This screen gave me more trouble than them! The most fuss I had was that they grabbed my communicator off of me. Desperate little man; he did not last long. You need not worry. We are glad you are safe with us."
For a moment, Hanzo wonders. He'd made many escape attempts over the course of his time captured by Talon. Yet, that night, it seemed too easy for Overwatch to come to his rescue after his last and final escape. Perhaps Talon was simply underprepared? Or something else?
There are gaps in his memory, and Hanzo hasn't convinced himself he wishes to remember more. Though he might have to, if something else is going on.
"Anyway, we're ready for the film." Winston adjusts his glasses. "I'll let everyone else know. Lucio insisted he have the opportunity to make lunch for you, Hanzo, so that should be down soon."
As far as he was concerned, no one had to make him anything, but it seemed as if everyone was eager to ensure that he was fed and cared for. There's a strong part of Hanzo that feels like he should demand that they stop, but he's hardly in any position to just slip away into the shadows to be left alone. Like this, everyone has the opportunity to engage in something with him to a degree.
It's considerate of them, but he truly wishes they wouldn't.
Wait. "Everyone else," Hanzo repeats out loud, frowning.
"There are a handful of us not out on a mission, so it seemed like a good opportunity to have everyone join you." Winston smiles. "McCree suggested it."
Hanzo peers over Winston's shoulder to see McCree wiggle his fingers in his direction. Somehow, Hanzo manages to frown more.
It is as Winston said: eventually, there are a handful of others joining them, bringing chairs and their own snacks. From Hanzo's position in his glass cell, he can see the screen just fine as everyone makes sure he can. Arriving behind Winston is Tracer, freshly returned from the streets and as bubbly as ever, greeting Hanzo loudly and cheerfully. He remembers to thank her for breakfast. When Lucio comes in, he's carrying a steaming bowl, chatting up a storm with Hana at his side who, in turn, is carrying a small bowl as well with a bottle of water.
When Lucio slides the bowl into the cell, he grins at Hanzo. "Canja de galinha. Hana brought you some popcorn."
"And water. You seem like the boring kind of guy who likes water," Hana adds, grinning as she slides them in.
"Thank you, both of you," Hanzo says quietly, his heart sinking further.
Despite having his own space, he feels crowded. The gestures are kind, but there are more people inside of this room than he cares for, and he has no way out. He understands what the attempt is, in that the gathering is meant to bring a sense of community, but he doesn't immediately feel the connection. His first instinct is to find a way out, but there's no where to go.
He says nothing. What can say to their generosity besides a sense of gratitude?
When the movie begins, out of the corner of his eye he sees Genji slip inside. Even if he didn't want to be noticed, Hanzo would have discovered him somehow. Briefly, they look at each other.
Then Hanzo turns his head away, trying to focus on the screen instead.
After the film, he remembers conversations, remarks on it. Hanzo doesn't have much to say, and he remains seclusive on the entire matter. Genji does not engage much either, but more surprising is McCree's general silence. That, he'd noticed.
Hanzo glances up, catching Genji's gaze before his eyes turn to McCree who looks contemplative before he loudly claps his hands.
"All right, we had our fun. Mercy's gonna give us hell if we keep hangin' around here," McCree announces loudly. "Let's get a move on and let the man brood his health back."
The consensus is an agreeable one, and they give their farewells loudly as they go. Hanzo can only nod in return, his hands folded together tightly. There's a certain kind of anxiety flitting through him that he can't place, nor does he want to focus on it.
As they leave, McCree claps at hand to Genji's shoulder. It means something, and Hanzo finds himself feeling bothered. He looks away.
All that remains are the brothers, the door left ajar.
He doesn't look up.
"You do not look well," Genji says quietly.
He says nothing.
Genji presses his hand against the glass, and Hanzo's fingers twitch. Instead of looking at him, he forces his eyes closed. "They are eager to have the chance to include you. How long have you spent your days alone, brother?" Genji asks.
"They are fools, just like you," Hanzo mutters.
Genji makes a noise, not quite a laugh. "Perhaps. Then let us all be foolish together. Did you truly find nothing but anger in the time they've shared with you?"
Hanzo's throat tightens, and his heartbeat increases. The anxiety rises in him, and he couldn't predict entirely why. "You should leave, Genji."
There's a pause, and Genji's hand slides away from the glass. "Rest well, brother," he says, his voice soft before he leaves.
Hanzo's hands curl into fists, tight, fingernails digging. He bites down on his knuckle and shudders.
But he could not say whether it was better or not.
He's shoved down into the chair, his lip split and ribs newly bruised. Straps are in place, preventing him from moving.
Not that he could try to escape when he's given a mild sedative to keep him complacent.
There are injections, periodically. Serums. He doesn't know what they're for, what they do. Sometimes he's ill, sometimes his temper is worse than usual and he lashes back in whatever ways he can.
The room is crowded, eyes on him.
Tell me about Genji Shimada a growl is made in his ear.
The tip of a dagger presses against his throat, and Hanzo says nothing. It digs in, a prickle of blood earned, and as it tears down vertically he refuses to give them any satisfactory sounds of pain. It's not the first cut he's received, anyway.
Tell me about the Shimada clan.
Tell me about when your father died.
Tell me about when you murdered Genji Shimada.
Tell me about the sword you used.
Tell me what you felt.
Every cut, every question, Hanzo gives nothing, but he remembers. He remembers more innocent days with his brother, becoming exasperated with Genji's lifestyle and misguided choices but his father, doting, letting him do as he wished. He remembers his father passing, and the immediate pressure to reign in Genji. The argument that sparked, the heated words, the forced duel, and a broken heart.
In front of him, She smiles. We could restore your empire, Hanzo Shimada.
He growls in return, trying not to wince at the next injection. "For what price? Nothing you could offer me would be worth it."
It won't be an option.
His heart races, and he gasps. He doesn't know what they put in them, but he tenses.
Tell us about the dragons.
Hanzo wakes abruptly, short of breath, cold sweat sticking to his skin. His eyes dart around, hands clutching the sheets of the cot. Fear, panic-- no, he has to think. What should he do? He remembers something.
His eyes find the communicator left for him, and he struggles out of the cot to reach for it. He swallows before he turns it on.
"Winston," Hanzo says first. "Dr. Ziegler. Someone."
"They're out, Han," he hears McCree answer. "What's the problem?"
Quietly, he curses to himself. Of course, it had to be the ridiculous cowboy, but Hanzo can't take it back now. He breathes in, trying to steady himself. "I remember something. From Talon."
There's a pause before McCree answers, "Give me a sec."
Hanzo sets the communicator down and rubs the bridge of his nose. Frankly, he's one of the last people he wants to discuss this with, but he knows he has to say something.
And very abruptly, Hanzo realizes he doesn't want to be alone. Not right now.
The doors eventually open after several minutes, and McCree heads inside, with a curious expression on his face. There's a pause before he's dragging over a chair and slumping down. "You look like shit."
Hanzo snorts softly, his lips twitching. "That is an appropriate description right now."
"So what's the deal, Han?"
"I... dreamt. Remembered. It is not as detailed as I'd like." Hanzo folds his fingers together, ignoring how they tremble. "But I think considering my situation, it was important to tell someone. I remember being interrogated. I don't understand the purpose, but they were questions about the Shimada family. Genji. My father. There was a woman, I think. Injections done. Then a question about the dragons. More importantly, the implication of Talon having an interest in the Shimada clan."
"Now, I don't know hell of a lot about the Shimadas, but that don't sound great. Whaddaya think they wanted, exactly?"
"I'm not sure yet." Hanzo shakes his head. "Whatever they did, I cannot recall immediately."
McCree scratches under his beard, thoughtful. He's an odd man to Hanzo; on the surface, he doesn't seem like much, but he meant it before when he remarked how observant McCree is. Beneath the American cowboy attire and confidence is a calculating, intelligent man.
"I'll let the doc and Winston know when they get back. You hangin' in there?"
The concern is a surprise. More surprising is Hanzo's own honesty when he says, "I... do not know."
"Thinkin' cramming in a bunch of people here for a movie didn't do you much good. Noticed that." McCree shrugs a bit. "For what it's worth, wasn't my intention. Sorry 'bout that. Triggered somethin' not great for you."
"You had no way of knowing. Nor I, really."
"Huh. Seem awful sure that I didn't do it on purpose." McCree lets out a wry chuckle.
Hanzo scoffs in return. "You're far from a cruel man. I know that you care immensely about Genji, as well as the others."
"Well, for what it's worth, I thought bein' around some decent people would'a done you some good. Might be better to keep it paced, Han?"
"I suppose." Whether or not it helps, Hanzo couldn't be sure. "From what I'd seen in the film, Han Solo was not precisely a decent individual. Criminal, dishonorable."
McCree grins crookedly. "Yeah, well, he gets better in the later movies. You only seen the first part of the original trilogy. Given the chance, a man can become better than what he thinks he is."
An amusing but perhaps pointless comparison, but kinder than he expected from McCree. Hanzo doesn't blame him for bearing ill will toward him regarding what had happened to Genji, but the implications are noted.
Hanzo is quiet a moment, knowing that the prospect of solitude is the opposite of what he wants right at this moment. He looks up at McCree, meeting his gaze. "Would you... mind remaining here? For a time, until Winston or Dr. Ziegler return."
There's a flash of surprise in McCree's eyes, then he chuckles. "Sure, Han. I'll keep you company."
That's all he thinks he could ask for right at this moment.
Chapter 3: Waking
Hanzo remembers enough, and fears for Genji.
RATING: Mature. There are mentions of torture and PTSD.
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement.
"So what I'm hearing is that there's a very real possibility of Hanzo being compromised," Soldier 76 says, his arms folded as he peers at both Mercy and McCree.
It's dead in the night, and McCree had found within himself that he didn't entirely want to leave Hanzo once Mercy and Winston returned. Ultimately, he knew that reporting back to them is for the best. He'd given them the run down, and included Soldier or Jack or whatever the hell he wants to call himself now. At the moment, Winston is remaining with Hanzo, oddly at the archer's request.
"It is possible," Mercy says carefully. "I've been doing tests on his blood. Right now, I'm waiting on the results. There were signs of injections, but I'm not certain of the compounds yet. All we can do is wait."
"So what's the plan, then?" McCree raises a brow. "If it turns out Talon did somethin' to his head. What're we gonna do with him? Tossin' him out is outta the question."
Soldier tips his head down, thoughtful. McCree can see how his forehead wrinkles; it's not hard to imagine Jack under that mask, frowning, thinking about his options. "Can we fix whatever it is they might have done? If it comes to that."
"We can try," Mercy answers. "We don't know that they were successful. Hanzo escaped, and it could be possible he was able to leave before anything was permanent or completed."
"We need to plan ahead. Right now, we'll stick to the original idea, keep Hanzo under watch for a week. Maybe he'll remember something else."
"Ain't like he ought to," McCree says flatly.
Soldier lifts his head and peers at him. "If it helps give us a better idea--" He stops himself, then rephrases: "I don't relish his condition, Jesse. Hell, if I knew it was safe for everyone, I'd let him out of that damned box, but if remembering more is what helps him then I am going to hope for that."
It's a certain logic that he can understand, albeit McCree instinctively disagrees. He gives a wave of his hand, dismissing the topic for now. "We got any idea how long til those blood samples are back, doc?"
"In the next 12 hours, maybe." Mercy shakes her head. "I may need to do more testing. I assure you the moment I make a discovery, I will tell all of you."
"In the meanwhile, I might recommend Zenyatta stop by to see Hanzo if possible. If there is any chance of him remembering, Zenyatta is our answer," Mercy suggests.
Soldier 76 nods. "I'll radio for him and see if a pick up is an option. If he can come, it's a long way from Nepal."
Frankly, McCree doesn't entirely agree that helping Hanzo remember will necessarily help. There's the chance, far as he can tell, that'll it'll only sour things as they are or potentially kick things off into making this much worse off for everyone. Hanzo and Genji especially.
But he's not about to argue. Instead, he gives a soft snort for his disapproval, opting to leave now before he starts anything and let them put together a plan.
Gradually, he makes his way outside. Damned London air is still humid as hell, but at least it isn't raining. He shakes his head and lights a cigar, inhaling slowly.
"Y'catch all that, Genji?" McCree asks.
"I appreciate that you kept a line open during your conversation with them." Genji peers down at McCree from his crouch on the hood of one of their vehicles.
Jack would have told Genji eventually, but the way McCree sees it? Better to have the raw information now than to have it crafted into something else. Despite all appearances, Jack cares too damned much and would try to find a way to soften the news.
"I know how you feel about him. It means much that you've helped," Genji says gratefully.
McCree shrugs and exhales smoke. "Y'know, when the doc brought you in all those years ago, I told myself there was no way in hell that you were gonna make it. I looked at you, and I saw a dead man. That it'd be a damned miracle if Angela was gonna get you back on your feet. But she did it. When you finally told me how you ended up that way, couldn't fathom it. Still can't." He forms a wry smile. "Hell, though. He's in a tight spot. S'pse you both are."
Despite everything, McCree's found himself empathizing with Hanzo. He knows better than most that the world isn't so black and white, not so simple as heroes and villains most of the time. In the case of the brothers, he still can't understand how the hell things ended up as they did, but Genji has room to see more to it and a decade of processing everything. So, there's that at least.
"He say anything to you? Before this whole thing," McCree mentions.
"No. But he did look unwell. He did not wish to speak to me."
McCree snorts. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised."
"He has been through a great ordeal. If he requires time, I will give it to him, Jesse." Genji hops down from his perch in smooth, incredible grace. "If he did not demand Jack to take me away, perhaps I would be the one in there."
"It ain't a take-back from what's done."
"None of us can take back what we've done," Genji says. "But we can all work to atone, can't we?"
McCree sighs and rolls the cigar in his fingers. "Don't think that I don't see what you're doin' there. I'll be mad as I want on your behalf."
"Perhaps both of you should stop being angry at something that cannot be undone," Genji muses.
The night is a mess of a blur after spending a good part of it with McCree. Most of it was tended in silence, but somehow McCree hadn't raised a single complaint and by the time Winston and Mercy had arrived he volunteered himself to talk to the both of them on Hanzo's behalf. Surprising, but Hanzo welcomed the assistance, none too eager to repeat what he'd recalled anytime soon. The rest of the evening, Winston had gladly remained until Hanzo stated he was ready. The scientist remained genuine, warm, and friendly, and Hanzo still wasn't certain what to do with it but was getting the feeling that he could depend on Winston.
In the morning, Dr. Ziegler arrives. He's awake before she arrives, thankfully; he isn't eager to repeat their last interaction of him taking a proactively violent stance. Instead, this time, she enters without incident with Pharah waiting outside the cell. She examines him like last time, then pauses.
Her hand touches his. This time, Hanzo does not pull away, finding himself minding the contact less.
"You look like a patient who has not been resting well." Dr. Ziegler frowns thoughtfully. "Would you like something to help you sleep, Hanzo?"
"No. I want a clear mind." Hanzo pauses, then says, "I appreciate the offer."
She smiles faintly and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't refuse what she has to offer, either. "I hope to have your blood results soon. Soldier 76 has also asked Zenyatta to come. He has the best chance of helping you."
Now Hanzo pulls away, his brows raising before he frowns and closes his eyes. It isn't that he precisely dislikes Zenyatta, but there is a level of discomfort in spending any amount of time with him, knowing what a large influence Zenyatta has been in Genji's life.
"If you don't approve..." the doctor says, her brows knitting.
"I understand that it is necessary. Do as you must," Hanzo tells her quietly.
The expression Dr. Ziegler offers is a sympathetic one. Though Hanzo has not known her long, she makes her intents clear and genuine. "Zenyatta will be here in a few days. In the meanwhile, do your best to keep resting, Hanzo."
When she leaves, Hanzo is left alone once more, though he suspects it isn't for long. During the day, he switches between reading the books that Winston has left him to being visited by the scientist, who is immensely pleased that Hanzo is reading through them while bringing him breakfast, this time with Tracer at his side. The two are close, that much Hanzo can determine without even needing to know their history; they had been part of the original Overwatch along with McCree, Reinhardt, and -- well, Genji, of course.
"That one's a classic, yeah? The big guy was downright ready to read the whole thing to me!" Tracer laughs and gives a completely harmless shove to Winston's arm.
"I didn't think you'd be able to settle down long enough to get more than a few words," Winston says with a snort, but his tone clearly good natured.
She giggles, looping her arms around the ape's neck in complete comfort. Their relationship seems very... sibling-like.
Hanzo raises a brow before glancing back down at his data pad.
The doors open, and the archer braces himself for more eager visitors. He can hear Hana remark with, "They made movies out of that one, too. They're ancient, though."
"They still hold up decently," Lucio offers, the smile in his voice easy to hear.
"Peter Jackson's heart was in the right place, but there's a lot missing in the films. Like with any film based on a good book," Winston grouses. "Oh, but let's make three films about The Hobbit, that makes sense."
"Anyway," Hana says, clearly not interested in discussing further details between The Lord of the Rings and the film counterparts. She approaches the cell and holds an item up for Hanzo to see. "Lucio and I got you a present!"
A skeptical gaze is given from Hanzo in the form of a squint and his brows knitting as he glances over the device in her hands. It's a plastic box of some kind, maybe a video game system, but it's nothing he recognizes. Frankly, he'd never really even touched video games in his youth. That was entirely his brother.
Hana slips a controller into the slot of the cell, and Hanzo isn't even sure he wants to touch it. With a sigh, he gingerly picks it up by one end.
"I looked for the oldest system in the area. Pretty sure this is as old as you are," Hana says, almost sounding proud of herself.
"I'm fairly certain the N64 was made before any of us were born," Winston says wryly.
Hanzo peers at all of them before he says, "I have no idea what this is."
The most incredulous look forms on Hana's face as she stares at the archer. "Genji said you guys had one! It's Nintendo! It's from Japan!"
"Genji played the videos games. I studied."
"How are you two related?" Hana groans, dragging her hands down her face.
"I even had one. And I lived on the moon," Winston muses, rubbing his chin.
Lucio rubs the back of his head. "Mario Kart, man. It's a classic."
"Goldeneye!" Tracer pipes up.
Hanzo feels very cornered at the moment.
"Well, anyway," Winston says, helping Lucio get the ridiculous machine hooked up to the screen. "I think it wouldn't be too bad to do something recreational. Hana and Lucio did their best to find something for you to share with you."
To his surprise, the scientist does have a point. Although it's not really something that he's fond of or that he understands, video games are something that Hana connects to effortlessly -- and something she wants to share with him, in her way. It's still strange to consider how much these people wish to bond with him and ensure he feels welcomed. He'll make an effort, but certainly can't promise he'll enjoy it.
"Fine," Hanzo says. "How am I supposed to hold this? It has... three handles? How does that work?"
Hana lifts her finger and opens her mouth, then pauses with a frown as she considers, then taps her chin. "The N64 days were obviously a dark time," she concludes.
"Oh, well. It's easy." Winston sits down and grips the middle prong with his feet, then holds the two on the outside with his hands. "Clearly a clever design," he adds wryly.
"I guess the apes are the master race," Lucio says with a laugh. "So what do we have, D.Va?"
In as much as Hanzo would rather spend his time, personally, doing anything but video games he's not in much of a position to refuse. More importantly, these people want to spend time with him and help him. They want to include him.
So, as horrible as he is at this particular hobby -- if one could call it that -- Hanzo quietly agrees to spend the next few hours. Playing.
Although he does not smile himself, he does revel slightly in the way Hana frowns in deep concentration as she plays, tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth; Lucio has a complacent smile on his face, and he hears Tracer giggling as she switches off with Winston, who in turn gives a toothy grin all the while.
It isn't so horrible, Hanzo supposes, even if the games still don't suit him.
The last few days have been spent in similar ways with others. Winston continues to visit, often with Tracer but not always, warmly regarding Hanzo as he does the others. They bring him breakfast usually, and he encourages Hanzo to read the other books that have been left for him. Instead of a video game, there is an occasion where Tracer brings things are more like board games, which is easier for him to follow.
Hana continues to bring video game systems, trying to find a connection in her own way. Lucio plays along, even if the games don't mean much to him as it does her, but he encourages both of them to reach out.
When Dr. Ziegler makes her regular check ups, he permits more contact. It's all he's had in ages, not counting the cruelty of Talons' touch. The last time she touches his hand, Hanzo holds on for a second before remembering himself.
McCree even checks on him. He still calls him Han Solo. He doesn't understand.
It is the fifth day now that he's been in this cell. Today, Dr. Ziegler promises him, is when Zenyatta will help him.
There are several mixed feelings that he has about Zenyatta. The factor of being an omnic doesn't weigh into Hanzo's mind at all; frankly, that sort of concern has not lingered long with him unlike some with more troubling issues. For him, he is being faced with someone who was able to find ways to soothe Genji. To help him, to guide his growth into the man he is today. When Zenyatta comes into the room with his calm demeanor and gentle aura, Hanzo sees everything he could not do and failed to achieve for his brother. Where Hanzo struck down Genji, Zenyatta picked up the pieces.
There's a wrenching sensation in Hanzo's chest, and his throat goes dry as he watches the monk approach with Genji following behind.
"Hanzo," Zenyatta greets him, his tone of the utmost respect, and Hanzo wishes he would not.
Instead, the archer bows his head faintly, keeping silent.
"I was informed of what happened. For what you have endured, you have my deepest condolences," Zenyatta says, his voice soft.
Hanzo says nothing in return.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Genji step forward. His hand extends out, fingertips pressing barely to the glass. Hanzo finds himself almost reaching out in return, but he refrains, his hand clenched at his side. After a pause, Genji says, "Brother, for this-- I would ask you permit me to stay. But I will leave if you demand it of me."
For a moment, Hanzo considers. His immediate instinct is to push away, tell Genji to leave and not be part of this. Ultimately, he knows the truth of what his expectations had been when he originally told Soldier 76 to escape with Genji those weeks ago and honestly he knows he doesn't have any desire to burden him any further than he already has with everything else he's ever done in his life.
He stands and finally, Hanzo touches the glass where Genji's hand is. They cannot touch, that is impossible, but this is close enough. He can see the lights on Genji's body brighten.
Eventually, Hanzo simply says: "Do as you'd like."
It's as good as permission.
Genji takes a step back, standing at Zenyatta's side. The omnic monk somehow looks complacent and comfortable as he floats, resting his arms over his knees. "Then both of you, sit with me."
Without question, Genji is taking a seat on the floor, crossing his legs. Hanzo hesitates, scowling, but eventually follows Zenyatta's direction. How opposite this alone feels; in the past, he'd have to drag Genji kicking and screaming in order to make him meditate.
"When was the last time you have meditated, Hanzo?" Zenyatta asks, every word spoken with caution to mean no invasion of privacy.
Ten years, Hanzo thinks. "Long enough. I have not forgotten how."
"I understand. I expect you recall your teachings, but we will begin anew. Close your eyes."
For a brief flaring moment, every bit of Hanzo wants to resist him, refuse this; it's a childish fit that exists for a few seconds and the desire dies just as quickly as it comes. His own personal complexities regarding Zenyatta shouldn't interfere with what is being given to him in order to help. Instead, Hanzo sighs and does as he is instructed, his eyes shutting.
"Breathe in through your nose, counting to eight. Release through your mouth, counting to five."
This was like instructing a child. Hanzo snorts a moment, but he does as he is told, breathing slowly. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Gradually, he feels himself relaxing, listening to the faintest hum of electronics that give Zenyatta life, an engine located somewhere in the room, and the fluorescent light flickering above.
"Think back to that day. Talon planned to attack the protest. Soldier 76 led a team with you, Genji, Lucio, and Reinhardt. Would you tell me what it was like, Hanzo?"
Hanzo thinks to himself. "It was cold. Misting. London is strange and damp all the time. This was no different. I was waiting on a roof above the protestors. Genji was scouting with Soldier. Reinhardt was waiting with Lucio. There was an explosion. I decided to investigate, leaving Reinhardt and Lucio with the protestors. Soldier was following below. The air was ... thicker. It smelled wrong. There was black smoke. He is called Reaper, and I saw that he had engaged with Genji. I did not wait, and I attacked. I told Soldier to leave with Genji. It seemed he hesitated, but agreed to go."
"Can you tell me what happened next?"
"I fought him. He's fast, but I keep up. I put an arrow through the eye of his mask and he goes down. But I have heard about Reaper, how he does not die, and he did not. He rose again, and we fight on. I know he won't die. I thought one of us will, eventually. I am ready. But I'm shot with something -- a dart, from behind. My shoulder. They take me alive." Something burns in his chest, and Hanzo tries to ignore it. "I didn't expect that. I fall."
He hears Genji breathe, a little more sharply, maybe wanting to say something. Instead, Genji says nothing. He doesn't interrupt.
"What happens next, Hanzo?" Zenyatta asks, his voice still kind and gentle, nudging words out of him.
"I wake up. I don't know where. I'm bound to a chair, surrounded by men in masks. They ask me questions. Tell me about Overwatch, they ask. I say nothing. At every question I am asked, I say nothing. They strike me. Beat me. I tell myself that I will give them no satisfaction. Someone stops them. Reaper. Careful, he says. This one isn't afraid to die. They leave me, perhaps to recover. It is quiet. It is quiet for several hours. The days are much like this. Tell me about Soldier 76, and I say nothing. There are knives this time in my skin. I give them nothing. I don't understand what they hope to achieve. She walks in, and I--"
Hanzo feels his fingers twitch, and he almost wants to open his eyes. But he doesn't. He can almost remember her.
"Hanzo, are you able to tell me what happened?"
Speaking fails him. Before now, Hanzo had not been able to recall, but now, he can almost make it out, the memory, coaxing it.
She has blue skin, and she seems cold to look at. When she looks down at him, there is no emotion in her eyes. A small smile curls at her lips. We could restore your empire, Hanzo Shimada. She must be French, with how she speaks.
"For what price? Nothing you could offer me would be worth it," he whispers, remembering.
"Hanzo?" Genji whispers for him.
In his memory, she paces around him, looking at him with a gaze of curiosity, as if she's evaluating him. Eventually, she nods and motions agents forward. Begin the formula, she instructs.
In his arms, needles are pressed in. He doesn't know the purpose, and he frowns at their intrusion. He frowns in his meditation. Sweat is on his brow. Something had been put into him, but he doesn't know what.
It won't be an option for you. The Shimada clan can and will recover, with Talon's generous assistance. It could have been you or your brother, but you are by far the better prize. Her smile is cold. You are a resilient man, but all men break eventually -- and when you do, you will be ready to take your place in your empire. After some matters are dealt with, of course. Starting with your brother.
"No," he whispers, feeling dread sink into him. Sweat crawls down his face, and a shiver passing through him.
Begin, she instructs.
One of the agents growls by his ear, Tell me about Genji Shimada.
"Stop," Hanzo says, feeling his body tense.
"Master?" he hears Genji ask.
"Hanzo, you can stop--" Zenyatta tries, but Hanzo feels bits and pieces falling into place. It doesn't rush into his mind, but there are parts he can recall.
Days later? Maybe a week? There are more injections. Beatings, knives digging into his skin, reopening old wounds, taunting them.
Tell me about the Shimada clan.
Tell me about when your father died.
Tell me about when you murdered Genji Shimada.
Tell me about the sword you used.
Tell me what you felt.
"Why?" he hisses finally.
Tell us about the dragons.
Leaning close to him, he can hear Reaper growl, Let--
"Hanzo!" Genji shouts for him.
Eyes fly open and Hanzo is breathing hard, quick and anxious, his heart racing. There sweat is cold, but apparent on his skin, and Hanzo's mind is reeling. Not everything came back, but enough to know for sure.
For sure on what he has to do.
"Get out!" Hanzo snaps at Genji. "Leave here, and do not return!"
"Brother?" The tone he takes almost shatters Hanzo's heart, but there is a desperation.
"Did you not hear me?!" Hanzo snarls. "I demand that you leave!"
For a moment, Genji hesitates, taken aback. His head turns to Zenyatta, who in turn gently touches Genji's wrist. The contact only raises Hanzo's ire and makes him want to lash out, but instead he turns away from both of them, unable to look or say anything more.
"You may call me whenever you are ready to speak," Zenyatta offers, his tone unchanged.
When Hanzo hears the door close behind them, he shudders and buries his face into his hands.
Life in itself is already full of unnecessary complications, and no one would ever need to tell Jack Morrison of that. He knows it too well, and is downright a living reminder of it. Frankly, this entire thing with the Shimada brothers has been a strain; getting the blood results back from Mercy had been enough to confirm his worries, but there'd also been what Zenyatta had to tell him and Genji--
Jack has known Genji for a long time, long enough to know his body language and when he's upset. Whatever Hanzo did now to hurt Genji raises Jack's ire. He doesn't want to think too hard about the reasons why, and he's told himself before that he won't get attached again, he won't get that involved, but here he is, ready to break into that damned cell himself and slap sense back into Hanzo's damned head.
After clipping his mask back on, Soldier 76 makes his way into the room barging in furiously. Hanzo is sitting on the edge of his cot, back to anyone who decides to approach.
He slams a fist against the glass. "Shimada! Eyes on me!"
Warily, Hanzo peers over his shoulder, looking thoroughly exhausted.
"You want to tell me what the hell you did to Genji this time?"
A frown forms on Hanzo's face, but he says nothing.
That just pisses off Soldier 76 more. He presses the medical report against the glass. "The compound Mercy found on your blood induces a person to suggestion. Reprogramming. You know what this means for you, Shimada?"
"I know," Hanzo says coldly. "I remembered. Not everything, but enough."
"And is that why you--"
"What concern is Genji's personal well-being to you?" Hanzo asks, sounding downright accusatory.
Soldier scoffs. "Hilarious question, coming from the man that made him what he is today."
It shuts Hanzo up for a moment, his eyes narrowing. That's not something he can even hope to argue. Eventually, Hanzo stands up and looks at Soldier carefully. "You have been here only slightly longer than I have, Soldier. But you speak as if you know him well."
"Well enough that I'm pissed you're making this harder than it has to be." Mercy and Winston were quick to evaluate who Soldier 76 is, but there's no reason for Hanzo to know. There's no reason for any of the newer members to make that kind of conclusion. Soldier continues: "When he wanted to go to Hanamura for you, I let him. I thought you'd be hopeless, but he didn't give up. So you tell me what the hell you remembered."
Hanzo looks as if he's unsatisfied with Soldier's explanation, but he has no room for argument. Not after everything's done. The assassin considers a moment before he looks at Soldier 76. "They mean to use me to kill Genji, and to reclaim the Shimada clan. I don't know how they intend to control me from here, but if it is possible that they can, Genji-- he must be as far from me as possible."
Shit. Even these days, the Shimada name isn't weak in Hanamura. If Talon helped rebuild them while keeping Hanzo under control, that would put the country under jeopardy. And Genji? Soldier isn't about to risk his life anytime soon either.
"You said they kept asking you questions, but you never answered any of them," Soldier says slowly, trying to piece this to gether.
Hanzo looks away, but nods in confirmation. "Questions about my father, Genji, the Shimada can. But I never said a word."
Questions that may have gone unanswered, but they brought about feelings and memories for Hanzo. The purpose of the serums are to control Hanzo, and somehow they're in relation to those emotions? That's all that Soldier can think of. Either way, this is shitty.
"We need to undo this." Somehow. Hell, Soldier 76 doesn't even know if it's possible.
A tired sigh escapes Hanzo. "Is that something you can do?"
"Mercy's the best damned doctor I've ever seen, and Winston's a brilliant scientist." That's not a yes, and Soldier thinks Hanzo notices.
"And if they cannot?"
"You care about my brother. I do not know why, but that will be enough." Hanzo's hands clench at his sides. "If there is nothing you can do, if they find a way to use me from here, you must kill me."
"Well, this is all very touching."
That voice is upsettingly familiar, playing directly from both of their communicators. The first name that flits to his mind is Reyes, but Hanzo is going to only know him as--
"Reaper," Soldier growls.
Hesitantly, Hanzo is picking up the communicator from inside his cell. "Miss me, Jack? How about you, Shimada? Fortunately for both of you, you're the only ones that can hear me."
For a moment, Soldier wants to ask how that hell he'd managed to get into their communication network, but it hits him quickly. A few days ago when they found Hanzo, one of the Talon idiots managed to snatch Reinhardt's communicator for a split second. They didn't think to look it over, make sure it wasn't bugged or something--
Stupid. Sloppy, Morrison.
"You have five seconds until I'm destroying this," Soldier 76 says coldly.
Reaper just laughs. "Ah, Jack. Five seconds is all I'm gonna need. Listen real close, Shimada." He continues, less jovial, and commanding: "Let sleeping dragons lie."
For a split second, Soldier wonders what that's supposed to mean until he realizes too late. It's a code phrase. A trigger. He looks up at Hanzo, whose eyes have widened and he goes completely still, looking like he's choking before something seems to snap into place.
Hanzo turns his head and looks at Soldier 76, his gaze not unlike the look a predator gives while evaluating a potential kill. Then, he snarls and slams his palm against the glass of the cell, and Soldier takes a step back immediately when he sees that tattoo of his glowing.
"Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!"
"Oh, god damn--" Soldier whispers.
Twin blue spirit dragons burst through the glass cell, shattering it. It would have taken hell of a lot of any other kind of force to break through, but this is not exactly what he expected. Soldier has seen Hanzo summon the dragons before, and he's certainly watched Genji do the same. Yet, this is different; beyond them being a threat to him, the dragons squirm through the air, as if they're writhing. Like a brutal train wreck, Soldier can't peel his eyes away, watching the dragons fly through the air until they're surrounding each other, biting furiously at each other's tails, locked in an infinite loop of two beasts trying to devour each other.
Hanzo steps through the broken glass, and Soldier is reminded of a more immediate threat. His hand goes to his gun, which he barely manages to take out before the assassin is rushing up at him and punching him in the throat.
For a moment, Soldier chokes, clutching at his neck as he stumbles back. He takes a swing at Hanzo to hit him with the end of his gun, but the assassin dodges. "Hanzo," Soldier manages out, knowing ultimately it's not going to stop him.
Hanzo's fast and strong; with the right equipment, Soldier 76 would have a more even fight with him, but it seems like a broken foot doesn't mean anything to a warrior raised in a family of criminals. He goes in quickly, snatching a knife that Soldier had strapped to his leg. Growling, Soldier takes aim and shoots at him.
The bullet grazes Hanzo's side and the assassin doesn't do more than maybe flinch fot a split second before he's going in again, swinging the knife expertly, trying to go for Soldier's neck first. The older man grunts, raising his arm to catch Hanzo's wrist before the blade reaches flesh. With an annoyed snarl, Hanzo kicks out sharply, his foot catching 76's midsection and knocking him back.
Hanzo marches over toward Soldier, knife raised, prepared to kill.
Upon hearing Genji, Soldier feels his stomach sink, but it does stop Hanzo for a moment. Slowly, Hanzo turns around, facing Genji, knife clutched in his hand.
The dragons, still looping, still gnawing at each other's tails, change their direction and create a blockade, preventing Soldier from reaching either Shimada.
"Genji! He's been triggered!" Soldier 76 shouts. "Get the hell out of there!"
Genji glances over Hanzo's shoulder to see him through the spiritual aura of the dragons, but he doesn't listen. Quietly, Soldier curses him.
"Draw your sword," Hanzo orders. "So that you may die honorably, brother."
The dragons wind around the both of them, as if keeping the both of them trapped within small arena. For a moment, Genji seems to freeze, as if he'd been struck. This is exactly the kind of shit he doesn't need; that 76 knows.
Soldier struggles to his feet and hesitates before he uses his communicator. "I need someone, anyone down here now! It's critical; Hanzo's out of his cell!"
"Nobody's coming, Jack," Reaper chuckles.
Letting out a snarl of frustration, Soldier 76 throws it aside before he shouts, "Genji!"
Through the dragons, he can see Hanzo striking at his brother with the knife. It's hardly got any of the length of Genji's sword, but alarmingly Hanzo is still significantly skilled with what he has. That, and Genji is very clearly holding back, trying to act defensively as he blocks each slash. Hanzo's strength is equally apparent as with every blow, he causes Genji to slide back across the floor.
"Hanzo, stop this," Genji pleads, and 76 can almost hear the tremor in his voice.
"You have squandered your place long enough," Hanzo hisses.
Son of a bitch, there's nothing Soldier 76 can do, not with the dragons keeping him separated from Genji. He doesn't dare try to breach them in case it kills him, but it leaves him completely useless from being able to reach them.
"You're a fool! Irresponsible!" Hanzo roars at him with every slash. He goes in for a stab, and the knife is caught with Genji's sword, and he leans in to snap at his sibling: "You disgrace the clan!"
Genji throws him off, then goes still before he's sheathing his sword. "Is this what you want, Hanzo? What you truly want?" He lets out a shudder before he's holding out his hands. "Then strike me down once again, anija. I will not stop you."
"Genji!!" Solder 76 calls out.
For a moment, Hanzo almost seems to pause before his resolve is clearly in place. With his teeth bared, he charges in, letting out a shout before he's bringing the knife down.
The blade digs into Hanzo's thigh. Despite how easy of a target Genji had made himself, somehow Hanzo had ultimately chosen to attack himself. Blood seeps out from his leg, dripping to the floor as the assassin trembles before he sinks into a kneeling position on the floor.
The dragons unwind from each other, sliding through the air with less struggle as they dissipate.
"Genji," Hanzo whispers.
"I'm here," Genji promises, crouching at his side. "Soldier?"
"I'm getting help," Soldier 76 announces. "Don't let you guard down."
Hesitantly, Soldier turns away, trusting Genji to handle his brother if needed.
It's quiet a moment after Genji watches Soldier 76 leave; he lets his heart continue to race as he slowly begins to calm from the confrontation. He'd originally intended to come down to try to get more answers from Hanzo, but then he'd been faced with being attacked by him.
He touches Hanzo's arm lightly. Unexpectedly, Hanzo grabs for his hand instead, squeezing tightly. Genji wishes he could actually feel it as he did once with flesh, but this will have to do.
"It was Talon?" Genji suggests.
Hanzo closes his eyes and turns his head away, shamefully. "There was a phrase Reaper said. It put me into action."
"It was not your fault."
"Was it not?" Hanzo mutters. "It was like I was living in the past. Like the last time we..." He trails off, unable to say it clearly.
Genji knows what he means to say. "You stopped yourself," he offers instead. "I was not wrong to put hope into you. I still do, Hanzo."
"And how could you?!" Hanzo looks at him now, desperation in his eyes. "All my life, I thought I knew my duties, and one of them was to protect you as your brother! I failed us. I failed you."
"You saved me from Talon."
"And I thought they would kill me, but that has only made things more difficult!"
Genji frowns behind his mask. "You hoped they would kill you, didn't you?"
He watches as Hanzo shakes his head slowly. "I can do nothing to make up for what I have done to us. I took away your life."
"Hanzo-- anija. Dying will not bring back your honor, or honor me. There is no redemption in becoming a martyr. But living? Living will give you the opportunity. I was-- for so long, I was angry. I hated you. I hated what I had become, but I've had time to accept my life now, and that I have never stopped loving you. Just as you have time to know what I am now, and relearn to love yourself."
For a moment, they are both quiet before Genji finds himself pulled into a tight embrace. He holds his breath, then slowly winds his arms around Hanzo in return, settling into his brother's hold. Quietly, he can hear Hanzo choke out, "I am sorry. I am so sorry."
"I know," Genji says. "And you must know that I forgive you. Please, do not throw your life away."
Hanzo says nothing in return, but this time, Genji doesn't have a sense of dread to go with it. Instead, the silence is welcomed as he's allowed to finally hold onto his brother. For now, there is a sense of peace.
Recovery this time does not take place in a cell with bulletproof glass. Instead, Hanzo is permitted to return to his temporary quarters. Though his leg is mostly patched, Dr. Ziegler has insisted that he remain off of it for at least a day to ensure full recovery. With her help and Winston's, the effects of the serum has cleared his system. When he had asked about the trigger phrase, he'd been answered with hesitant looks and a promise that they will find a way to undo it.
"So I am still a liability," Hanzo says quietly.
"You overcame it last time. They probably didn't get the chance to finish what they were working on with you," Winston insists.
Hanzo shakes his head. "I don't know that I can promise that I can do that again."
"You will," Genji says confidently.
Of course. Because Genji has hope for him. Hanzo is less certain of that, but as far as he can tell, the rest of them generally agree with Genji. Somehow, they're all optimistic fools, but they are fools who care so immensely that Hanzo still doesn't know how to process it all.
But it significantly easier without the separation of glass between them.
He is visited often throughout the day, Genji remaining at his side. It's still a difficult thing, but Hanzo is more welcoming of his presence. Not that he'd ever resented it, but it had been too difficult to face him from day to day. Here and now, he has promised himself that he will get to know who he is now.
Hana and Lucio arrive, this time arriving with a Go board, which is something at least Hanzo knows how to play. In comparison, Hana is terrible at it and has no discipline, and she clearly hates losing but there is a tug of a smile on her face as she watches how Hanzo plays against the both of them. Winston tries his hand at the game and still loses, but Hanzo appreciates their efforts while Genji chuckles beside him, watching them play.
And he is a little amused.
At the end of the day, Hanzo is surprised to be visited by McCree, who he'd been certain did not favor him positively, which is something he can actually understand. There's a pause from Genji before he touches his brother's arm.
"I'll be back," Genji promises.
Hanzo nods, watching his sibling leave before he glances at McCree, waiting for him to say something.
"Y'know," McCree says as he pulls up a chair, "men who have made a grave error can handle it in a lotta different ways. Maybe they're proud of what they did, maybe they'll brood 'bout it, but it takes a lot for someone to say they've wronged someone."
Quietly, Hanzo raises a brow at him.
"All I'm sayin', Han, is that I respect a guy who admits what the hell they did. Owns up to it. Makin' up for what you've done? Somethin' I get. Somethin' I definitely understand."
Having someone's respect for apologizing is an odd aspect to Hanzo. "Thank you," he says quietly.
"Anyway." McCree grins sharply. "Somebody still has to sit down and watch Empire Strikes Back."
"You said Han Solo gets... better."
"That I did."
Hanzo shrugs. "I suppose I will have to see for myself," he says airily, making himself sound vaguely disinterested.
"Guess y'will. I'll come back in an hour. Figure you've got all night."
Hanzo turns his head away. "It is not as if I am going anywhere, after all."
"Then it's a date." McCree lets out a laugh and clasps his hand on Hanzo's shoulder. "Take it easy, Han."
The gunman leaves, and not long after Genji re-enters the room, pausing before he settles down next to Hanzo.
Genji places his hand out, open, palm up in offering. As always since Genji went out of his way to seek him out, he waits, ready to receive his brother, ready to accept him back into his life. Patient, and so hopeful.
Hanzo reaches out, and takes his brother's hand.